


Just not in a romantic movie

by Kumara



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, M/M, dense!Harvey, dense!Mike, pining!Harvey, pining!Mike
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-15 17:37:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9248627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kumara/pseuds/Kumara
Summary: Mike has always (secretly) wanted to be in a movie; he’d imagined being in almost every other genres – superhero, Western, that sort of thing where someone or something needs to be rescued from a villain with weird mustache and a crooked nose – but a bad romantic film that can’t decide whether it wants to be a romcom or the next Notebook. It’s a bad metaphor really, because Mike’s story – "not really a story, not anything at all" his brain helpfully supplies – lacks everything: plot, development, a jaw-dropping climax. It doesn’t even have any characters, if anything Mike should be considered the narrator of his not story.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in season 4, where Mike and Rachel broke up after the Logan Sanders Debacle.

  
  
  
  
He’d be lying if he said he didn’t see it coming. Although in Mike’s defense, he’d never thought it would happen in an almost anticlimactic way. There was alcohol mixed with exhaustion involved, and now that he thinks about it, it was so much like a movie cliché that he doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry. Or do both, in no particular order. Well he can, just not now, not right here. That’ll just make it a worse cliché, and though Mike has always (secretly) wanted to be in a movie, he’d imagined being in almost every other genres – superhero, Western, that sort of thing where someone or something needs to be rescued from a villain with weird mustache and a crooked nose – but a bad romantic film that can’t decide whether it wants to be a romcom or the next Notebook. It’s a bad metaphor really, because Mike’s story – "not really a story, not anything at all" his brain helpfully supplies – lacks everything: plot, development, a jaw-dropping climax. It doesn’t even have any characters, if anything Mike should be considered the narrator of his not story.  
  


He’s kinda leaning towards crying.  
  


There will be time for that later, though. Quietly he stands, picks his clothes off the floor, careful not to make any noises when grabbing the metal belt buckle and his oxfords, and gets out of the room. He gets dressed and briefly considers tucking his shirt in, but it’s early enough that he can go back to his apartment, shower and get a change of clothes. He’s not sure if he should leave a note – if leaving a note would be seen as presumptuous – so he sets on a simple “See you at work” and puts it on the kitchen island. He shuts the door behind, stealthily as a ninja. He finds it a little amusing.  
  


***  
  


There’s no “I shouldn’t have done that” moment for Mike. At least not yet. On the cab ride back to his apartment, he finds it mildly surprising that he doesn’t need to hold it together as hard as he thought. There’s not much emotion threatening to rise up and tighten his chest. There’s not much emotion at all. There’s a sort of calmness that feels out of place in his stomach.  
  


Not until he sees the faint red bruises of fingers on his hip when he steps out of the shower that Mike realizes it’s actually emptiness that he feels.  
  


He could really use some crying and get it over with.  
  


***  
  


It’s not anyone’s fault, really. He can blame himself, but what’s the use of that anyway. Although in hindsight, he should’ve seen that coming. Not _that_. That he’s fantasized about countless times (well, 264 times since they met to be exact, but he doesn’t particularly need to be reminded of that right now, thank you very much).  
  


He should’ve seen the _tripping_. And the falling. Just like many events that happened in Mike’s ordinary life of an unmotivated dropout turned dealer turned professional conman, he doesn’t realize he’s in deep shit before it’s too late.  
  


Okay, that makes it his fault then. But Harvey hasn’t helped much either. With the _tripping_ , to be precise.  
  


He didn’t need Harvey to show up at his apartment after Grammy died. He didn’t ask Harvey to put his career on the line for Mike after Jessica found out. He didn’t expect Harvey to let him stay in his condo after the fight with Rachel.  
  


He didn’t expect Harvey to _care_.  
  


He should’ve been content with the caring.  
  


***  
  


Mike hasn’t exactly had any normal relationships since high school, so there’s not much he can fall back on. Being with Rachel was something he’d fully anticipated after all the tension and drama that led them where they were. At some point during the fight that resulted in their breakup, though, Mike thought, maybe he’d been feeling what she expected him to. Maybe there’s been a delusion somewhere along the way.  
  


_“It’s good to have you back where you belong.”_  
  


That was the tipping point. So he tripped. And fell.  
  


For the one person who he’s sure hasn’t exactly had any normal relationships since high school either. And doesn’t really welcome one.  
  


***  
  


They don’t talk about it.  
  


Mike’s not sure if he should be glad or be reminded of the movie metaphor he made. Because honestly, it’s turning into a weird scene from that movie with Julia Roberts and Jude Law. And no, he doesn’t think of himself as that Natalie Portman’s character.  
  


It’s just that when he looks at Harvey, he can actually feel the emptiness tightens somewhere inside.  
  


Mike thinks he’d make a great actor. Just not in a romantic movie.  
  


He smiles, nods, points out some more details of the discrepancy he just found to Harvey, and life goes on.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Closer is the name of that movie with Julia Roberts, Jude Law, and Natalie Portman. I don't really remember the full plot anymore as I saw it quite a few years back, I just know it's a sad movie.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't for the life of me write smut. Kinda died trying.

  
  
  
  
It happened on a Thursday night. Early Friday morning, actually.  
  
  
They’ve been neck deep in boxes after boxes of financial statements from their client’s firm. The client suspected their money has been stolen by one of their own executives, so Harvey was entrusted with a decade of paperwork to trace the culprit’s footprints. It should’ve been Louis’ case, considered that the man claims to be a “financial crime expert” (he’s just sort of good with numbers because he didn’t have any friends but the nerds in math club back in high school, that’s all), but Jonathan Maddock – their client – knew Harvey pretty well from the many times they meet at the car club and he wanted Harvey on the case. Usually Harvey’d consider such cases as lackluster, but since he did have someone good with numbers working for him, a chance to be owed a favor by Maddock shouldn’t be passed on.  
  
  
Normally Harvey’d be content to dump the whole research thing on Mike and be the general who shouts out the “Charge!” command after all his troops are lined up (somehow he could hear Mike’s voice babbling something about The Art of War in the background of this metaphor), but they had 10 years of a huge corporate’s bookkeeping on their plate and even with Mike’s freak brain, it’d take forever if they didn’t bring in more muscle. Which meant Harvey. Which led to Mike sprawling on Harvey’s couch, various stacks of paper all around and over him (seriously Harvey could never understand how Louis had not snapped and stuffed Mike in a bag with all the mess the kid made almost all the time and dumped said bag down the sewer yet), at 11 on a Thursday night.  
  
  
If Harvey wasn’t so distracted by how Mike kept chewing on the end of his favorite yellow highlighter, he might’ve considered stuffing the kid in a bag himself. There were bread crumbs (they had ordered a pizza earlier because Mike threatened to die right then and there if he didn’t have something in his stomach) all over his couch and on Mike himself.  
  
  
He couldn’t help but notice there were some crumbs under Mike’s lower lip, and he sort of wanted to reach over and wipe them off. The thought of doing so was, strangely, not unsettling.  
  
  
Instead he got up from the armchair and poured himself a glass of scotch. After a moment thought, he poured another for Mike.  
  
  
Mike took it with a soft thank-you, and in the brief second their hands touched in passing, he looked into Mike’s eyes and thought he saw something sparkling there. Mike took a sip and looked back down the page he’s reading. Harvey went back to his chair and picked up a document.  
  
  
He couldn’t really focus on work. For the rest of the night.  
  
  
***  
  
  
In retrospect, all the signs were there. He’d just chalked them up to a big brother’s instinct. To lead. To mentor. To help. To comfort. To protect.  
  
  
It was the need _to be with_ that led to his – silent – revelation. Then came a bunch of other signs just flooding in, and under oath he might admit to feeling a little off-balance.  
  
  
The quiet, uneven throbs somewhere along his ribs when Mike told him to let him go.  
  
  
The void inside his chest when he walked through the bullpen and Soul Patch Guy was sitting in Mike’s cubicle.  
  
  
The relief in the back of his mind when Mike went to him after he fought with Rachel.  
  
  
The warmth spreading around his stomach when Mike was back to Pearson Specter and sitting in his old office.  
  
  
Harvey thought he’s too young to have a midlife crisis, and under oath he might even admit to having freaked out a little.  
  
  
***  
  
  
It was well past midnight. He’d just finished his third glass of scotch when Mike yawned again. He’d been yawning for a while, and if Harvey hadn’t been distracted by the pink stretch of his mouth, he wouldn’t have let down his guard.  
  
  
“Stop doing that.”  
  
  
“Doing what?”  
  
  
“… never mind.”  
  
  
He sighed and put the document down on the coffee table. “Let’s call it a night. Even your brain is no use when it’s fried”, he said, pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes closed.  
  
  
Mike hummed a soft, noncommittal sound and began to stuff papers in his bag.  
  
  
“You should stay here, it’s late”, he uttered before realizing that it’s probably not a good idea.  
  
  
“You sure?” Mike asked tentatively.  
  
  
“Yeah, give you some more time to sleep. I'll give you a ride to work tomorrow.” It was definitely a bad idea.  
  
  
Mike still looked really hesitant, and somewhere in the back of Harvey’s mind a voice (which sounded strangely similar to Donna’s) made a disapproving “tsk tsk” sound.  
  
  
“Clear the couch, and I mean of the papers AND all the bread crumbs”, he sat up and pointed to the general vicinity of said couch. “I’ll get you something to sleep in.”  
  
  
He honestly just wanted Mike to save some time before work tomorrow.  
  
  
Harvey brought back an old pair of sweatpants and one of his long-sleeved Henleys. Mike was still looking a bit incredulously at him.  
  
  
“You sure it’s okay?” he said, even as Harvey handed him the clothes.  
  
  
“Yes, Mike. Now can you stop with the questioning and get some sleep?” he tried to go for exasperated but it came out a bit too fond for his taste. “And don’t tell me you can’t sleep on a couch because last time you were here you slept like a log”, he added, trying to go back to their usual banter.  
  
  
“Aw, did you miss me?” Mike teased back. There was that sparkle in his eyes again. Maybe Harvey was just too tired to tell.  
  
  
Maybe he was just too tired of the whole charade.  
  
  
He didn’t make a comeback, and Mike probably figured it was the end of their conversation.  
  
  
Still deep in thought (trying not to be but failing all the same), Harvey didn’t realize he was still standing there when he looked up to see Mike had shucked off his dress shirt. (Seriously, what is wrong with this kid? He could’ve gone to the guest bathroom instead of stripping _right there_.)  
  
  
Mike’s undershirt was already pulled over his head and halfway down his arms when he caught Harvey’s quiet “Yeah, I did”.  
  
  
A few beats went by where neither of them did anything but just standing there looking at each other. Harvey thought he could really congratulate himself for having been such a good mentor, because Mike’s poker face was almost as good as his. Except for his baby blues.  
  
  
Then Mike looked away. And Harvey just _couldn’t take it anymore_.  
  
  
Later on, when he thinks back about that moment, Harvey remembers he just simply wanted Mike to look at him like that _again_. After all the time he had been gone. After all the time he was not _with_ Harvey, even when he was back. He just simply wanted Mike to look at him with that intensity, like he’s trying to imprint Harvey’s reflection to his eyes. Like Harvey’s the only person he sees in the whole world.  
  
  
So he closed the few steps that separated them and stood right in Mike’s space. Mike looked up, and before he could say anything, Harvey cupped his face with one hand, the other placed softly on the nape of his neck, and leaned in slowly. He felt a bit proud of himself for still having it in him to give Mike time to pull away, and was pleasantly surprised when Mike met him halfway.  
  
  
Mike tasted like pizza and scotch. And something sweet. Almost like the chocolate cake his mom baked when he was six and his family was still together.  
  
  
Mike had dropped his undershirt to the floor and wrapped his arms around Harvey’s waist. He gently bit Mike’s bottom lip and when he opened up, Harvey plunged his tongue inside, exploring the weird (and slightly disgusting, but he couldn’t care less) combination of pizza, scotch, and sweetness. Mike sighed into the kiss, and Harvey couldn’t help but pull him closer. More, he thought.  
  
  
Automatically his hand which was cupping Mike’s face slid down his throat and to his chest. Harvey flicked his thumb over the nipple he found there, and Mike’s breath hitched. He broke the kiss and pulled his face away, so Harvey took the chance to nip alongside his jaw while still fondling his nipple. His other hand caressed a path down Mike’s spine and stopped when it reached just above Mike’s belt. He traced his thumb along the waistband of Mike’s pants, occasionally dipped his hand inside to knead the soft cheeks he found. Mike made these delicious little whimpers – just like he’d imagined so many times – while sliding his hands down Harvey’s ass to grind their groins together. Harvey groaned and kissed his mouth again.  
  
  
“Harvey”, Mike moaned between kisses.  
  
  
“Bed?” Harvey said, short of breath.  
  
  
“… please”  
  
  
They made it to the bedroom, never stopping the kissing and touching, and tumbled onto Harvey’s king-sized bed with Mike on his back and Harvey on top of him. The coolness of the sheets made Mike shiver, but soon his skin felt like it was on fire where Harvey peppered open-mouthed kisses all over. He kicked his shoes off and soon his pants hit the floor, while Harvey got out of his t-shirt and pajama pants.  
  
  
They were back to the kissing and Harvey relished the taste of Mike’s skin on his lips. He had always imagined it’d taste salty and a bit bitter. He was on point, but it also tasted just like Mike’s mouth, a little sweet. Like drinking ice cold Coke on a summer day. He didn’t really get why it’d be sweet, but he couldn’t get enough. So he kissed down Mike’s chest, flicked his tongue over his navel, and Mike did a full-body shiver. He reached down and pulled Harvey back up to kiss him again.  
  
  
At one point Mike was on his stomach and their moans filled the room. Harvey held onto his hip, and he found that Mike tightened around him whenever he nipped on Mike’s left earlobe. He tasted more salty between his shoulder blades, and still Harvey _couldn’t get enough_.  
  
  
That night Mike did not sleep on the couch. He made these little almost snoring noises. Strangely, Harvey didn’t find it annoying.  
  
  
***  
  
  
Mike wasn’t there when he woke up.  
  
  
There was a note saying, “See you at work”.  
  
  
Harvey sat down on the couch, and found some bread crumbs still lingering there.

 

 


End file.
